August Gloom

My heart has been so heavy the past few weeks. Typically I can "talk my self out of feeling this way" but this time, not so much. I should preface that August is always the toughest month of the year for me. It holds the anniversary of both my Dad and sister's passing which brings up so many triggers. I normally just like to pretend like the first three weeks of August don't happen; disassociate and come back to myself after August 22nd just in time to celebrate my birthday. This year I am FEELING everything. It almost seems like my defensive armor is lost or something. There are some bright spots---I got to see two souls I adore wed one another and dance at their wedding under the stars while the waves crashed into the shore behind us. My body aches still for moving in ways it hasn't in 18 months and to be amongst friends in this type of gathering sharing community, support, and love was fuel to keep me going. My bright, brilliant girl got to return to school full time and I get to witness a completely reawakened child whose zest for learning and peer connection returned within a matter of days. I got to meet my dear cousins new baby and hold her and rock her and sing to and giggle with her. It is a reminder that life goes on and what's at stake is for that next generation. My work is fulfilling in ways I had never known or experienced before and I have a roof over but my head, food in the fridge, and lots of love and support. But I also witnessed a country overthrown by terrorism and humans--- peoples brothers, sons, fathers, and friends---cling to an airplane as it departed only to fall to their death live on camera because the fear of remaining there was too bleak and scary. And those were only the men, which indicates to me that the women and girls are in an even worse position. I don't know about y'all, but much like the memory permanently tattooed in my brain of those people jumping from the twin towers twenty years ago, I am almost certain I'll never be able to unsee it. We are so deeply divided and a global pandemic rages on with mutant variants determined to take us all down, but our own philosophical or personal beliefs interject to banish the very things that could save us all and cause further divisiveness. Another domestic white terrorist stood in front of our nations capitol for hours yesterday threatening to blow it up with bombs he had strapped to himself. It barely made a blip on the news and we've all seemed to forget that home-grown terrorists stormed our capitol THIS year, causing anarchy while some people stood at home and cheered them on. Everyone is tired. Everyone is beat down. And each day seems to bring something new and more damning than the day before it. Due to all of this, so much of the grief process feels stolen and taken from me. My Mom has been gone over eight months. She died amidst the second (or was it third? Maybe fourth?) wave of COVID-19. Her hospice was on lockdown and we had to rotate in and out following changing rules by the hour based on positive case rates and other factors. We were the LUCKY ones too; so many people have had to say goodbye to their people over video or worse yet, no chance to say goodbye. Virtual funerals are better than no funerals I suppose, but it's just not the same. The next moment, people had to return to their chaotic lives and keep "figuring it all out" while those who loved her the most are just left reeling. It's all so...unfinished. A friend and colleague said to me, "life just is different when the person who brought you into the world is no longer in it anymore." I'm an orphan whose seen the dead body of both parents and a sister as they leave this earth before my fourtieth birthday. It sucks and it feels unfair. It is unfair. I know I'll be able to pull myself up from my bootstraps and keep it moving. In a few hours, I'll login and give my all to my work and then submit some stuff for my doctoral program and probably giggle with my husband at a funny line Kathy Hilton says on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills or text my daughter about who the new Head of Household might be on Big Brother. But right now, I just want to throw a bit of a fit. Kick and scream, shout and cry. The end.